A Fire in the Darkness
by Chanda-Panda
Summary: A story I wrote for my creative writing class. Enjoy!


A Fire in the Darkness

By: Chandler Lawrence

I heard the shrill ring of my alarm clock screaming directly into my right ear. I opened my eyes to the never-ending black abyss that was my world, reached over, and slapped my alarm clock soundly, turning it off. I sighed, sitting up and putting my feet on the cold, hard wooden floor that covered the entire house. In the winter I always had to wear socks or my feet would freeze and start to turn what my brother told me was a purplish color, whatever that meant. I trudged over to my closet and felt around until I found what I was looking for, a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Once I was dressed I grabbed my white cane and headed to the bathroom across the hall. After a few minutes of feeling around the counter I felt the scratch of sharp bristles against my fingertips. My sister had hidden it behind the tissue box and under a washcloth. I brushed my hair and was brushing my teeth when my sister started banging on the door.

"Hurry up Kiera, it's not like you have to put on makeup or anything." She sneered from the other side of the door. Sometimes what my sister said hurt but I had gotten used to it a long time ago.

"Ok Courtney, I'm done."

As soon as I unlocked the door I felt a rush of air from Courtney yanking open the door. She bumped my shoulder as we walked past each other. This was our morning ritual and one of the few times Courtney ever acknowledged my existence. Otherwise it was like I didn't exist to her. The familiar aroma of bacon, eggs, and strawberry jam greeted me as plodded into the kitchen. Leaning my cane against the wall, I sunk into my usual seat, the chair between my mother and father's with intricately carved arm rests. I found comfort in the constancy of the design; it's faithfulness in being something reliable and unchanged in my life. I had spent many dinners mapping out the swirls, groves, and smooth edges of the wood, which were now etched forever, burned into my mind. I always found a sense of calm in those swirls, when my parents were being insufferable or yelling at my sister, when my sister was being more malicious than usual, when my overbearing older brother was being overly paranoid about my safety, an anchor in the storm that was my life. Sometimes I would sneak out of my room late at night and just sit there, tracing the whirling design for hours until all the troubles that filled my head would fade away and join the darkness that surrounded me, a never-ending night. My hand instinctively settled on the arm rest and unconsciously began moving along the wood.

"Morning sweetie, how did you sleep?" chirped my mother in a voice much too happy for this early in the morning, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. They smelled slightly charred and over cooked but I knew they would taste fine just the same. The grease from the bacon made it stick to the flimsy paper plate and the steam from the eggs made my face and hands feel damp. I wasn't allowed to have a regular plate because my mother was afraid I'd drop and break it and hurt myself on the sharp pieces.

"Fine." I muttered feeling around for the salt shaker.

"Let me get that for you sweetie." I heard the clink of my mom's fake nails as he picked up the salt shaker a little to my left. "How much do you want?"

"Just a bit."

After I finished eating my mom handed me my cane and backpack, which she had packed for me that morning.

"Your lunch is in the front zipper sweetie. Your father will pick you up from your last class because your brother has a football game so just wait in the room and he'll find you ok."

I let her know I had heard her with a quick nod. It agitated me sometimes, how my parents treated me like I'm helpless and I could have easily gotten to the parking lot myself, but it was better to just not say anything. I heard soft footsteps creeping up behind me and smiled.

"Hey Ryan." I turned to face my brother. My brother always tries to sneak up on me, but he can never keep his big feet quiet and he breathes too heavily. You could hear him coming from a mile away, and after football you could smell him too.

"Seriously? I thought I had you that time! I was so close!"

"Yeah right, you'll have to do a lot better than that to sneak up on me." I teased giving him a light shove.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright lets head out or we're gonna be late." Ryan laughed taking my backpack from my hand and slinging it over his shoulder, the textbooks smacking together inside and landing on his back with a thud, he linked arms with mine and led me to the car.

School was boring at best, a mechanical process of doing the same thing day after day. My brother dropped me off at home room before heading to his first class, like always, and picked me up after every class herding me around school like a paranoid sheepdog watching over a wandering lamb, afraid I might run and get lost or hurt. At lunch he always sat with me instead of hanging with his football buddies despite their persistence. Sometimes I wish he would just go with them, as much as I enjoy his company, he can be a little overprotective. I know his friends must hate me, he never goes to any parties or hang with them outside of school because he is always with me. He feels responsible for me and can't leave me by myself. He can't bring me along either because of my... condition so he just stays home.

The monotonous drone of teacher's voices all seemed to blur together as the day dragged on. I was always bored and restless at school. I couldn't take notes or do problems on the board or even leave class to go get water so I was forced to just sit there for hours, listening to the teachers, the constant scraping of chalk against the white board and the furious scribbling of pencils. By my last class I was ready to go home, crank up my iPod and let the music take over.

Music was the one thing that kept me going, made me forget everything. Forget about school, and homework, and boring lectures. Forget about my sister, my brother. my parents. Forget about being blind, forget everything. All that mattered in that moment, all that remained was the music: the pounding of the drums, the beat of the bass, the melodious tunes, and the sweet voices of the singers. The lyrics spoke to me in a way nothing else ever could. Music filled me with a sense of belonging, like coming home after being lost at sea, tossed and turned until finally being washed ashore.

The ear-piercing ring of the bell signaled the end of school. The room was filled with the sounds of rustling papers and shuffling feet then almost instantaneously the room fell to a deafening silence. I leaned back and waited for my dad. He was always late. After a while, I pulled out my iPod and pressed the play letting the music surround me.

During the fourth song I noticed an odd smell. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and listened for the janitors, thinking that they might be waxing the floors or using some sort of smelly cleaner. At first I didn't hear anything, then a faint crackling came from down the hall. I stuffed my iPod into my pocket and extracted myself from the desk-chair combo my school seemed to be fond of, almost tripping over my backpack in the process. I went to pick up my cane but couldn't find it, I must have kicked it when I had bumped my bag. The noise was getting louder and the smell stronger. I bumbled over to the door, hitting a few desks in the process and after fumbling with the handle, opened the door.

The heat hit me like a freight train and the smell of smoke was overwhelming. Slamming the door shut I struggled to breath, choking on the smoke. I weighed my options. I was alone, everyone else had already gone home and the sports teams would have left thirty minutes ago. The closest exit was down the hallway where the fire was coming from. The other was an upstairs window with a fire escape and judging from how loud the crackling of the flames had become, I only had a matter of seconds to get out and up the stair before it reached me. I buried my mouth and nose in my sleeve and yanked open the door.

I began sweating almost instantly and my coughing came back with a vengeance. I ran as fast as I could down the hall toward where I knew the stairs were, which was about ten yards down the hall from where I was. I had to slow down when I knew I was close and feel around for the first stair so I wouldn't fall because I had left my cane back in the classroom. I could feel the flames coming closer, practically nipping at my heels, the heat was unbearable and the smoke was smothering me. As much as my mind screamed at me to run I forced myself to go slow up the stairs, I couldn't risk falling down them. It was torture. I felt completely helpless. Maybe my mom had been right all along.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs the flames had caught up with me. I felt the flames licking at my legs, the smoke pushing in on me filling my mouth and nose, leaving a foul taste behind. My clothes clung to my damp skin. I tried to remember which way the fire escape was. I took the hallway to my left and ran my hand along the lockers so I wouldn't hit the wall at the turn. I could smell my hair beginning to singe and felt the growing heat of the fire running alongside me. I came to the turn but stopped, the fire escape was in the room on my right but something didn't smell right. Through the smoke I smelt something else, something putrid. I hesitated to enter the room. Luckily so because as the flames reached the room, a science lab, there was a loud bang. Flammable and combustible chemicals from the storage closet had all exploded when they came in contact with the flames. I knew some of the chemicals were probably toxic so I took off down the next hall. For the first time I was grateful for having such a keen sense of smell.

At this point I guessed I had at most ten minutes to get out of the school before I would be trapped by the flames and unable to breathe through the smoke. The likeliness of a fireman finding me in this huge school was slim, even if someone knew I was still inside. I found myself in the choir room. My feet must have instinctively taken me here, my favorite place in the whole school.

Banging into dozens of chairs and a few music stands I reached one of the big windows at the back of the room. I would have to try and jump out; I was only a story up so it wasn't that bad of a fall, at worst I would break a leg. I fumbled and fought with the window latch, trying to pry it open. I banged the window in frustration and let out a deep growl when it wouldn't budge. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I tried again and this time I was able to wiggle it loose. I flung the window open and hauled myself onto the sill. I jumped just as the flames reached the music room.

Falling has got to be the worst feeling in the world. Your stomach in your throat, surrounded by nothing but air and nothing to support you, knowing you are about to hit the ground below you but not knowing exactly when and the shock when you actually do. I hit the ground with a loud thud and a sharp pain in my left ankle. I knew it was broken, but I was alive and safe and that's all I cared about. I had survived a fire by myself without anyone else's help, despite being blind; in fact being blind is what probably saved my life. For the first time in my life, I was proud of being blind, I wasn't helpless; I was strong. I always had been. And only now did I recognize this strength. I didn't need to be protected anymore. I was free. And the darkness no longer seemed so unpleasant, and I welcomed it like an old friend as I laid down and waited for someone to find me.


End file.
